by Terri Farley
“You’re welcome, Sam,” Lila said. “Thank you for walking out here with Jen’s schoolwork. Every year I forget how we suffer in the September heat.”
“Darton High is air-conditioned,” Jen pointed out, and her mother took the hint.
“Honey, I’m working on him,” Lila assured her daughter, and Sam knew the him was Jen’s dad, Jed. “It’s only the first day of school and you’re still recovering, so be patient.” Lila waited for Jen’s grumbling agreement, then turned to Sam. “Tell us about your classes, Sam.”
“I have P.E. first thing in the morning,” Sam said.
“So you’ll be finished before it gets hot,” Lila said.
“But in December…” Jen began.
“I know.” Sam rolled her eyes. “And what good is it trying to look nice when I leave home in the morning, if I’m going to be sweaty and gross an hour later?”
“A problem I yearn to have,” Jen said, then stared at her mother with such intensity, Sam wasn’t sure she should go on. Was she only making Jen feel left out?
“Go ahead, Sam,” Lila urged.
“Then I have English, world history, math, and journalism.”
Sam was pleased with her recital, until Jen said, “That’s only five classes. Don’t you have six?”
“Right,” Sam said. Mentally, she reviewed her day, numbering classes off on her fingers. She was about to reach for the printed schedule in her backpack when she remembered. “Oh yeah, one semester of Life Skills.”
“What’s that?” Lila asked.
“One of those retro fifties classes Mrs. Santos is bringing back, hoping they’ll make us successful when we move out on our own,” Jen said, with emphasis. “I have to take it, too.”
Lila drank the rest of her lemonade, plucked a cherry from her glass, and bit it from its stem.
“Let’s hope,” she said.
Sam rushed on, trying to distract Jen. She didn’t want to be in the middle of family bickering, even though Jen and her mom were on the same side.
“In Life Skills, I start with cooking, but then classes rotate,” Sam explained. “Next quarter, I’ll have sewing or personal finance—”
“Subjects we could handle at home,” Lila put in, as she stood.
“—but then second semester, I’ll go back to Spanish,” Sam said.
“You girls take your time. Sam, just let me know when, and I’ll call your Gram to come pick you up. Drink all you like,” Lila said, nodding to the pitcher. “And I’ll bring out another glass.”
Sam and Jen followed Lila’s glance and saw Ryan headed their way, but Jen didn’t let her mother escape.
“And how are you feeling about teaching me calculus, Mom?” Jen teased.
“Helpless,” Lila said, grinning. “And that’s what’s going to win this one for us.” Lila held up crossed fingers. “Your dad is no better at higher math than I am. You outpaced both of us when you were in sixth grade.” Then, just before she left them, Lila used the back of her hand to check the temperature of Jen’s forehead. “Don’t push yourself, honey.”
“I don’t have a fever,” Jen said, pulling away from her mother’s concerned touch. “It’s a hundred degrees out here. Everyone’s hot.”
Lila nodded, unconvinced.
Once the screen door closed behind her mother, Jen moaned, “If I’m not back in school next week, I don’t know what I’ll do. Maybe die of boredom.”
“Or take care of my colt?” Ryan suggested. Hair slicked down and shirt cuffs turned back, he’d clearly made a trip up to the mansion.
Probably, Sam thought, that’s where he’d gotten the folder he was carrying, too.
“Sure, I’ll take care of Boots,” Jen told him. “But my brilliant mind needs stimulation. Every day counts if I’m going to earn a scholarship to Stanford.”
Sam was pretty sure Ryan didn’t mean his expression to look so indulgent, but it did, as if he were tolerating a child’s dream of sliding down a rainbow.
Whatever he meant by it, the smile was brief. Ryan pulled a chair closer, moved the pitcher aside, and opened his folder.
“Maps,” Sam said, as he placed the papers side by side, but then she saw they were actually digital photographs of real maps pierced with multicolored pins.
“Photos of maps on my bedroom wall,” Ryan said.
Sam looked up at Ryan expectantly.
But Jen didn’t wait for him to explain. Head tilted to one side, she squinted, studied the photos, then said, “You’ve been thinking about this for a while.”
“Yes,” he said.
“About what?” Sam asked.
She knew she wasn’t dumb. Her grades and standardized test scores said her intelligence was above average, but sometimes, it was hard having a best friend who was brilliant.
“Dr. Scott’s diagnosis wasn’t what convinced Ryan to try to find Hotspot,” Jen told Sam.
“It did, but it wasn’t the only thing,” Ryan admitted. “I’d already been considering it. What rational person wouldn’t want to get back something that’s his?”
His defensive tone made Sam look at Jen, but her friend’s expression was carefully blank.
Get back something. He must mean Hotspot, Sam thought.
“Of course, my father thinks it’s a poor idea. Still, he agreed to let me use Sky Ranger to stalk the herd, even though he’s tried unsuccessfully to do the same thing with the same horse. But I’m a lighter rider and I’ve been giving Sky an athlete’s nutrition—the highest quality grain to be found—preparing for this.”
When Ryan rubbed his hands together, Sam remembered last week, when she’d been alone on Gold Dust Ranch.
Right after Jen’s accident, Ross had driven Jen to the hospital and Lila had gone to meet them after making Sam promise to stay at Gold Dust, to tell Jed, Jen’s father, what had happened. After caring for Silly, Sam had wandered over to the barn and heard the rush of grain from a scoop and seen Ryan with Sky Ranger, the Thoroughbred gelding who was sleek and fast as a greyhound.
Hotspot came from running stock, too, so it would be a fair race, but Ryan hadn’t said he was stalking the Appaloosa mare. He’d said “stalking the herd,” like his father had.
Sam recalled one rainy morning on her first cattle drive. From her sleeping bag she’d heard hooves splattering mud and looked up to see Linc ride out on Sky Ranger, determined to chase down the Phantom.
Now, when Sam looked at Ryan’s photos of the maps on his bedroom wall, she felt sick.
Ryan was entitled to go after Hotspot, but…
“Do the pins in those maps show where she’s been spotted?” Sam asked.
“That’s almost right,” Ryan encouraged her.
“The Phantom’s herd?” Sam’s voice turned shrill as she demanded, “You’ve been tracking the Phantom’s herd?”
The screen door opened. Lila handed Ryan an empty glass for lemonade, then asked, “Everything all right out here?”
“Yeah, Mom,” Jen said. “Sam’s just—” Jen must have felt the accusation from Sam’s eyes, because she broke off. “We’re fine.”
Waiting for Jen’s mom to leave, Sam gripped her hands into fists so tight, she felt her fingernails press into her palms. Finally the screen door closed again.
“I’m not fine,” Sam said quietly.
“All right, then. Yes, I’ve talked with people who’ve spotted that wild band, the band Hotspot’s traveling with.” Ryan let his words sink in, then asked, “Sam, what’s the difference? I’ve gotten information from several sources. I’m putting it together. So what?”
Wasn’t it bad enough that Pam and her mother would see the Phantom? Now Ryan would be after him, too. He’d see the Phantom and fall under his spell.
Sam knew she wasn’t being selfish. If she didn’t shield the stallion from other people, someone was bound to turn greedy.
Sam swallowed. “I can’t explain.”
“Would you rather have me just blundering across the range on my own?”
“Of course not,” Sam said. “I don’t want you to get lost, but—”
Sam knew it would be rude to say what she was thinking. Ryan’s father was obsessed with the stallion. If Ryan knew where to find the Phantom, he’d probably tell Linc.
“But what?” Ryan asked.
“Who are your sources?” Sam demanded.
Ryan arranged the maps. As he talked, he pointed out meadows and springs mentioned to him by Caleb Sawyer, the hermit of Snake’s Head Peak. He indicated trails and canyons both Jen and Mrs. Coley had told him about.
“These are gullies, a playa, water holes, and washes my father admitted got the best of him when he was after the stallion,” Ryan said, ignoring the fact that Linc’s actions were illegal.
Next, Ryan’s index finger tapped places he’d heard about from Mrs. Allen, Sheriff Ballard, Brynna, and Karl Mannix, the horse thief.
“My information indicates the herd has six favorite habitats.” Tilting his head to one side, as if he were joking, Ryan added, “Those details came from almost everyone in the county, except you and Jake Ely.”
Sam felt dizzy, and it wasn’t from the heat.
Ryan fidgeted in his chair. He watched Jen, obviously waiting for congratulations.
“These sightings of the Phantom go back over three years,” he boasted.
He knew, and so did Sam, that Jen admired his calculated, analytical approach to tracking the herd, but she sat silent.
When she cupped her hand over her bandages, Sam knew why.
“Jen, does your rib hurt?”
Lips pressed together, Jen shook her head.
As if he thought Sam’s question were meant to distract him, Ryan protested, “I assure both of you that I only want Hotspot.”
Jen met Sam’s eyes. They both heard the plea in his words.
“I believe you,” Sam said, but she couldn’t help thinking of Golden Rose, the palomino mare Ryan had kept hidden in the ghost town of Nugget. He’d known she belonged to someone else. Still, he’d kept her.
Images of Nugget led to thoughts of prospectors who’d sworn they’d be level-headed amid a stampede for riches. But once they’d begun digging the dirt and panning the water of nearby streams, once they’d seen the glitter of precious minerals, the miners had given in to obsessions for gold nuggets and veins of silver.
Ryan wouldn’t know he wanted the silver stallion until he saw him.
“So then you’ll help me?” Ryan asked.
Sam looked to Jen for advice, but her friend had reached for the stack of schoolbooks. Wincing, Jen stretched until her hand clamped on a brand new calculus book. Then she settled it on her lap with a sigh of satisfaction.
Poor Jen, Sam thought. She must feel left out. First, her parents had kept her from going back to school. Now her rib kept her from joining Ryan’s search for Hotspot. Something told Sam that Jen wouldn’t enjoy hearing that Sam’s old best friend was coming to town.
Lila opened the screen door. “Sam?” she said, but her eyes studied Jen, and Sam knew Lila had given up on her daughter’s good judgment. “It’s time I called your Gram, don’t you think?”
Before Sam could agree, Ryan spoke up.
“Don’t bother, Mrs. Kenworthy. I’ll take Samantha home. We have things to discuss.”
“Fine,” Lila said, but Sam wasn’t so sure.
“Jen, is that okay?” Sam asked. No way would she ride with Ryan, alone, if it made her best friend jealous. “Jen?”
One of Jen’s braids had worked loose from its hairpins. It exposed the sunburned part on her scalp and hung down like the ear of a sad puppy.
Jen didn’t fix it. She’d didn’t answer. She didn’t even look up from the math book.
Ryan shook his head impatiently, stood, and started walking toward the circular driveway where his family’s cars were parked.
“Jen,” Sam repeated once Ryan was too far away to hear her, “do you want me to wait? Or is it okay if I go with Ryan and save Gram a drive over here? I don’t mind waiting. Really.”
Jen was probably just engrossed in the wonders of calculus, but Sam had to make sure.
“I know I’m less fascinating than math, but give me a sign that you hear me, okay?” Sam snatched up her friend’s hand. “Squeeze once for yes and twice for no.”
Finally Jen looked up. She gave a weak smile. “Sure, go ahead. Help him find his horse. Anything that will help him stand up to his dad is fine with me. Besides, I know you don’t like him like I do.”
The sun glinted on the lenses of Jen’s glasses, hiding her eyes so that Sam couldn’t tell what Jen meant by that last bit.
“I’ll call you tonight,” Sam promised.
“Will you?” Jen asked.
“Sure,” Sam said. Then she gave her friend’s hand a single squeeze and left.
Chapter Four
A horse galloped far off in the distance, where the bone-white playa met blue Nevada sky.
Sam spotted it after she and Ryan had left Gold Dust Ranch, turned left, and started driving toward River Bend Ranch. She’d been staring in the direction of Lost Canyon, wondering if Pam and her mother had arrived yet.
It probably wasn’t a mustang. Not in the late afternoon. Not in this heat. Not out in the open. Mustangs craved shade and coolness just like other animals.
Did the horse have a rider she couldn’t make out through the dust and distance? Was it really even there? She could be so fixated on the Phantom that she was seeing things. It wouldn’t be the first time.
Sam pulled her eyes away from the fleet figure. Then she turned sideways, shoulder to the windshield, as Ryan repeated a question he was asking for the second time.
“…aren’t on my map?”
“I’m sorry,” Sam apologized, shaking her head as if she could dislodge the image of the running horse. “What did you say?”
“I asked if there are places, besides the six I’ve listed, where you’ve sighted the Phantom?”
“Sure,” Sam answered.
“If I promise not to lay a finger on the stallion, will you tell me about them?”
“No, Ryan. I haven’t told anyone.”
Ryan looked skeptical.
“I haven’t and I won’t,” she insisted. “But you did a really nice job on that map, from what I can tell in the photographs.”
“I’m flattered,” Ryan said, his fingers tightening on the steering wheel. He slanted his head left, grimaced as if the sun glare on the windshield was aimed only at him, then snatched up sunglasses from the car’s console. He stabbed them over his ears so forcefully, Sam winced.
Ryan was awfully worked up about her refusal to answer his questions, so she tried to lead the conversation in a different direction. “What are you going to study in college?”
“Nothing,” he snapped. “I want to take over the ranch once my father loses interest in it.”
No, Sam thought. The Kenworthys longed to buy their ranch back someday. She still hoped a miracle would make it happen.
“And he will lose interest,” Ryan continued, “make no mistake about that.”
Sam held her breath as her mind raced. The Kenworthys needed the ranch to continue their palomino breeding program, Fire and Ice. She and Jen daydreamed about growing up to run River Bend and Gold Dust, living next door to each other.
Trust a Slocum to mess everything up. Unless…
Sam shot Ryan a calculating look. Maybe there was another way. Not as good, but if Jen and Ryan officially became boyfriend and girlfriend, she supposed they might get married. Jen would have her ranch back.
What would be even better, since she didn’t really trust Ryan, was if they got engaged, then Ryan fell in love with someone else. Then, out of guilt he might just give Jen the ranch. Sam smiled at her tangled fantasy. Of course it was far-fetched, but it could happen.
As if he’d noticed her mind drifting, Ryan added, “Learning the ways of the West are college enough for me right now.”
Sam knew it wouldn’t do
any good to tell Ryan that most successful ranchers had attended college. Many continued their education through classes on the Internet or agricultural extension programs, too. If his daydream came true, he’d find out for himself.
And there was another reason Sam didn’t argue with him.
The dark horse’s silhouette was clearer now. Its size, strong gait, and fluttering tail—probably black—looked familiar.
“Are you telling me Jake Ely doesn’t know where to find that mustang stallion?” Ryan blurted. “Your Phantom?”
“I’m not saying he doesn’t know. I’m afraid he might,” Sam admitted. “But if he knows, I sure didn’t tell him. And if he knows, I doubt he’d tell you or anyone else.”
Jake didn’t love the Phantom like she did, but he respected the horse as he did all wild things. Besides, she and Jake were friends. He knew revealing the stallion’s hidden valley would end that friendship.
“I only want Hotspot.” Ryan pronounced each syllable in the sentence. It was annoying and Sam was already running out of patience when he added, “Why can’t you just take me at my word?”
“Gee, I don’t know, Ryan. Maybe it’s because the last time I did, I ended up in a police car?”
Ryan drove in silence and Sam told herself she shouldn’t feel a bit bad for reminding him that he was to blame for hiding Hotspot and Shy Boots near Cowkiller Caldera. It was his fault Hotspot was running with the mustangs and pure luck Shy Boots hadn’t died without her.
Sam sighed. If she punished Ryan by making him do this on his own, she’d be punishing Shy Boots, too.
Besides, she was pretty sure Hotspot would be happier at Gold Dust Ranch. The last time Sam had seen her, the mare had still worn her leather halter and she’d been trying to decide whether to graze alongside the Phantom’s wild mares or the captive mustangs in Mrs. Allen’s pasture.
Sam felt her stubbornness melting. “I’ll help you get started,” Sam agreed, but she cut Ryan’s thanks short when she realized the dark horse on the horizon was Witch. “That’s Jake’s horse.”
“Why would he be running alongside it instead of riding?” Ryan asked, and Sam saw he was right.
Jake’s sweat-shiny arms swung in a relaxed rhythm. His long strides kept him running in the shadow of the black Quarter Horse mare.